


Heads I Win, Tails You Lose

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-01
Updated: 1999-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-10 23:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	Heads I Win, Tails You Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Heads I Win, Tails You Lose

Standard copyright disclaimers.We have tried to keep to the tradition of many of the Due South episodes with this story. It is basically a cops vs. killer drama. **It is rated PG-13 for adult language and violence.** Heads I Win is a collaborative effort between two Due South fans. We would sincerely appreciate hearing your comments (good or bad) about the story. We hope you all enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it. __________________________________________________________________ 

#  Heads I Win, Tails You Lose 

by Marna Hughes and Paula

Ray Vecchio thought his lungs were going to burst. He had been chasing this guy for close to fifteen minutes and what really made him angry was that he was sure the creep was playing with him. Always turning to see that Ray was behind him and slowing down if the distances got too great. When Ray caught up with him, he was going to enjoy slapping the cuffs on and maybe making them just a little too tight. 

Where was Fraser when you needed him? Benny was the one who enjoyed the chases down alleys and over roof tops, not him! He always thought that Fraser could keep on running forever, but Ray knew that if he didn't stop soon to take a breath he was going to have a heart attack, right then and there. Maybe this was just a wild goose chase. Maybe this wasn't the guy they were after, just some perp who recognized Ray and took off when Ray approached him. Maybe. But he couldn't take the chance, so he kept running. 

As he rounded the corner of one of the university buildings, he found himself at the top of a long flight of concrete stairs. He almost didn't see them in the darkness and nearly went down them head first. Grabbing the railing, he stopped to catch his breath. It was cold for a night so early in September and he could see his breath floating before him. He gulped down the cool air, trying to relieve the ache in his side and the strain on his lungs. He leaned heavily on the railing, waiting for the gasps to ease into regular breaths. He knew he was going to need help and reached into the pocket of his long coat for his phone. His legs ached from the race across the campus and he was starting to feel fatigue settle in. As he flipped the cellular open, he heard the scrape of a footstep behind him. He knew immediately he had made a mistake and hoped it wouldn't be his last. He had let his guard down. 

"Can't let you do that, Ray" the voice was quiet and matter-of-fact. 

Spinning towards the voice, Ray just barely managed to raise his arms in self defense as he saw the man swing what looked like a baseball bat. The blow knocked Ray off balance and sent him tumbling down the stairs to land heavily at the bottom. Whatever energy Ray had left was knocked from him in the fall. He lay there on his stomach, trying to summon up enough strength to at least put up a fight, but he knew it would never happen in time. He watched his attacker through a pain filled haze as he took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the bottom, he turned Ray over with a booted foot and stood looking down at him. A street lamp glared behind him, ruining any chance of Ray's being able to identify him. 

"You're not dead, are you, Vecchio?" He gave Ray a kick in the ribs, forcing a gasp of pain. Ray's vision blurred again, he knew he was going to pass out. 

The man knelt down and grabbed the lapels of Ray's coat. Raising him slightly off the ground, he pulled Ray up to barely inches from his face. Ray tried to focus, tried to make out the features but the red haze had begun to turn grey and he felt consciousness slipping away. 

"I'll let you live this time, Vecchio. Just for old times sake. Next time you get in my way, I'll kill you." He released his hold on the coat and let Ray fall back to the ground. 

Brushing the dirt and leaves from his jeans and gave Ray one last look. "Time to go to work. Remember what I said." 

The grey turned to black and that was all Ray heard. The dampness had soaked through Ray's coat. His body ached and his head throbbed. The early rays of light had just begun to show over the horizon, making Ray wonder how long he had lain there unconscious. Raising his arm to look at his watch, he was puzzled to see that he was holding a piece of paper. He tried to read the note, but lying there on his back, with a blinding headache, he wasn't having any luck. With what seemed like a supreme effort he forced himself to roll over on to his side. As he did, he found himself staring into the dead eyes of a young woman. He cried out in shock as he took in what lay before him. There was no body! Pushing himself away from 

the gruesome object, he managed to find his cell phone, which miraculously still worked after the fall. With shaky fingers he punched in the numbers of the station house and reported what had happened. Taking care not to look at the decapitated head, he forced himself to stand and staggered over to sit on the bottom step. As pain and fatigue finally got the better of him, he laid his bowed head in his hands and wept. 

The bastard was going to pay. He had made it personal, now. __________________________________________________________________ 

The emergency room doctors sent Ray home later that afternoon. He was suffering from a mild concussion and bruised ribs. Nothing some bed rest and time wouldn't heal, but they were both luxuries he didn't have. Sitting there on the deck, he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. He needed to file a report and get back on the case. Too many bits of information were floating around in his head. The killer knew him? Old time's sake? The guy didn't look familiar. What could he have meant? "Ramondo! I thought the doctor told you to stay in bed!" His mother had been fussing over him since he had arrived home. 

"Ah Ma, non e niente di grave!" 

"Yes, it is serious! Ah... why do I bother!" She threw her arms up in surrender. "You're going to do what you want. At least try to relax. I'll bring you some lunch." Ray smiled. His mother always thought a good meal could cure anything. He was sure every Italian mother thought the same way. 

"Sure, Ma. That sounds good." He tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. 

He had just settled back and closed his eyes when he heard the creak of the screen door. He wondered if his mother was ever going to give him any peace. 

"Look Ma, I'm relaxing. See?" He didn't bother to open his eyes. 

"I can see that, Ray. Is this a bad time to visit? I could come back..." 

Ray sat up. "No...no, Benny. Glad you're here. It's not as bad as it looks, really." 

Fraser was dressed in his official uniform. Looking slightly flushed in the heat of late summer, he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his jacket as he moved to sit in the lawn chair across from Ray. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and looked visibly relieved to see that Ray was alright. 

"I'm sorry I didn't come over earlier. Francesca called me this morning at work to tell me what had happened. Although, from what she said, I expected to see you in a hospital, not at home. Are you sure you're up to a visit?" His frown deepened. "She also told me some of what happened. I'd heard a news report about it this morning, but no names were mentioned." 

"Ya know, Benny, up until last night I used to be a great fan of horror movies. The gorier the better. I don't think I ever expected to see anything like that, in real life." His hand went up unconsciously to the bandage. "What kind of sick mind does that sort of thing?" 

"It takes all kinds, Ray. Isn't that what you're always trying to make me understand?" 

"Yeah, I guess so. But what's really weird is that I know this guy." 

"You recognized him?!" 

"No, something he said. He told me he wasn't going to kill me, for old time's sake. I've been trying to figure out what that means. I don't ever remember meeting anyone that twisted. Most of the guys I've put away have been your run of the mill crooks. It just doesn't make any sense." 

"Do you want to talk about it? Maybe that might help..." 

"There's nothing to tell really. I had gone over to the college on a call. Someone had complained about seeing some guy that looked suspicious hanging out around the dorms. There weren't any uniforms available so the call got filtered down. It was just the luck of the draw that I was there and the guy recognized me. He started to run and I chased him. He caught me off guard and knocked me down some stairs. When I came to he was gone and ..." He forced himself to finish the sentence. "And that woman's head was there." 

"Have they identified the woman, yet?" 

"I don't know. I haven't had a chance to call in. I think my mother's unplugged all of the phones. She hasn't given me a moment's peace." 

"Well, Ray, that's understandable..." 

"I know, I know." He sighed. "Just ignore me." He paused, then continued in a quiet voice. "He left me a note. About the killings. He's got more planned" 

"What did the note say? Can you remember?" 

"It was really bad poetry. More like a rhyme. Sort of like that one about days in the month." 

"You mean 'thirty days..." 

"Yeah, 'thirty days has September, on days with four I will dismember. Pretty coeds, one by one, will lose their heads, I've just begun.' Pretty sick. It's almost like a challenge or a dare. Why is it creeps like that always want to play it cute?" 

The screen door opened. "You two! Come and eat something. Enough talk about killings and killers." She fixed her gaze on Ray. "Why couldn't you have joined the priesthood, like I always hoped you would?" 

The two men got up to follow her inside. As Ray opened the door he heard a strangled sound from behind him. He turned to glare at his friend. "You better not be laughing, Fraser." 

Fraser gave him an innocent look and held the door. "No, of course not, Ray. After you...Father." 

A light lunch in the Vecchio household consisted of three courses. Both Fraser and Ray tried to keep the conversation light. It was obvious that the ordeal had hit Ray's mother the hardest. After the meal ended, she excused herself to take a nap, telling them to leave the cleaning up for her. 

"She hasn't slept. I've been telling her I'm okay. You can tell she's upset. I can't remember the last time she left a messy kitchen." Ray started to clear the table. 

"Look, let me do that. It's the least I can do for all the times your mother has invited me here for a meal. Besides, the way you look, you'd probably drop them. So you were saying he's planning to kill another girl by using some calendar pattern. That's got to be significant." He had started washing the dishes and had his back to Ray. When he got no response he turned to see Ray sitting there, lost in thought. "Ray? Are you feeling alright?" 

"Something you just said. His next victim will be a calendar girl, won't she." 

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. But..." 

"No...wait. Fraser! That's it! I think I know the killer. This is a stretch, but way back in high school I had some trouble with this really weird kid. Just a young punk, really. Couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. It was at a school dance. Geez, now that I think about it, I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was dancing with Irene and the song that was playing was Calendar Girl. You know the one...by Sedaka." He saw Fraser's blank look. "Doesn't matter anyway. The creepy kid wanted to butt in, but Irene didn't want to dance with him. He wasn't one of the neighbourhood kids but we had all seen him hanging around. He just sort of appeared one day. We all figured he was a runaway. I'd seen him a couple of times at the pool hall when I went to meet my Dad. So, Irene didn't want to dance with him and he wouldn't take no for an answer. I told him to back off and to get lost. He pulled a switchblade on me and he said that the next time I got in his way he would kill me. Benny, that is exactly what the killer said to me last night. Same flat, almost emotionless tone. And you know that damn song has been going through my head ever since I woke up. I thought it was because of the calendar rhyme." 

"Do you remember his name Ray? I can check it out for you." 

"Burke, Lester Burke. And we will check it out. I'm not letting this guy get away from me again. " 

Early the following morning, Ray brought the Buick to a stop at the curb in front of Fraser's apartment building. He could see Fraser standing at the building's entrance talking to two men, both of whom appeared to Ray to be derelicts. When Ray honked, Fraser handed one of the men something, turned, and walked to the car. 

"What'd you give that bum?" Ray asked as Fraser slid into the passenger seat. "Fifty dollars," Fraser answered, fastening his seat belt and laying his Stetson on the dash. 

"Fraser, you're a sucker for every hard luck story you hear," scoffed Vecchio as he eased the car out into traffic. 

"He'll pay back the money when he starts his new job." 

"New job, right. Fifty bucks will keep him drunk for a week." 

Fraser ignored that remark. He was studying the bulky bandage on Ray's head. 

"How are you feeling, Ray?" 

"Well, Benny, except for the excruciating headache, the blurred vision, and the ringing in my ears, I feel great." 

"That's good, Ray, head injuries can be serious." 

Ray drove north through the congested downtown traffic. "Map's in the glove-box, Fraser. How do I get to Richmond from here?" 

As they passed endless suburbs, both men were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. The scenery was becoming more rural when Ray finally broke the silence. 

"Pretty countryside," he observed casually. "You wouldn't think a cold blooded maniac would jump off the canvas of a Grandma Moses painting." 

He continued, "His father still lives here, I'm hoping the old man has heard from Lester recently. Maybe he can tell us something . . . an address . . .a friend . . . give us some lead on this creep." 

Fraser nodded, then abruptly pointed to the road. "Groundhog at two o'clock, Ray." 

Ray braked hard and swerved to miss the chubby rodent waddling onto the highway. Ray continued without missing a beat, "This guy 

was like smoke, Benny. One minute he was there, the next minute he was somewhere else . . . poof, he appears out of thin air behind me with a bat. I want this creep real bad." 

"Turn left here, Ray, this is Richmond." 

Fraser consulted the map again and directed Ray through the small, old-fashioned town. 

"This is it, Ray, three-oh-eight Clinton." The house was a handsome Victorian with a wide veranda across the front. A pretty young woman with a pixie hair cut sat on the porch swing, her lap full of snap beans, her hands busy. 

"Excuse me, we're looking for the Burke house," Ray called from the curb. 

"This is the Burke house," said the pixie. "I'm Amy Burke." 

Ray approached extending his badge. "Ray Vecchio, Chicago P.D., this is Benton Fraser. We're looking for a Charles Burke." 

"Charlie is my father," she wasn't looking directly at Ray, but rather at a point to the right of his shoulder. "Daddy, some people here to see you" she called. 

The screen door opened and an elderly man stepped on to the porch. 

"You fellas want to see me?" 

"Yes, sir, we need to ask you a few questions," Ray flashed his badge again and introduced himself and Fraser. 

"Questions about what?" Charles Burke sounded a little wary. 

"Mr. Burke, you have a son named Lester . . . " Behind him, Ray heard Amy gasp. 

"No, I do not have a son!" Charles Burke's voice cracked like a whip. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Burke, our records show . . . " 

"Your records be damned," shouted Burke withdrawing behind the screen door. 

"Sir," Fraser stepped forward. "We need your help. This is very important." 

Charles said nothing, staring at Fraser through the screen. Finally he opened the door and stepped back onto the porch. "What do you want from me?" 

"Mr. Burke, this is about your son Lester." Ray began his question again. "It's urgent that we find him. When was the last time you saw or spoke to him?" 

"What's he done?" Mr. Burke moved to his daughter's side and rested a protective hand on her shoulder. 

"We need to talk to him," Ray answered evasively. 

"Amy, go in the house," said Charles giving his daughter's shoulder a gentle shove. 

"No, Daddy. I have a right to hear this." She remained seated, but her hand grasped the larger one on her shoulder. 

The father shrugged and sat down on the swing beside his daughter. "I'm sorry, Detective. I really can't help you. I haven't seen or spoken to Les in nearly eighteen years." 

"Can you tell us anything that might help us locate your son?" asked Fraser. "Maybe you know of another relative or a friend he was close to." 

"Les wasn't close to anyone," Burke said bitterly. 

"You said you hadn't spoken to him in eighteen years," Fraser prodded. 

"That's right . . . Constable, is it? When Les was eight years old, I sent him to live with my brother, Robert. I haven't seen him since." 

"Why'd you send him to live with your brother?" Ray asked. 

The old man sat for a moment studying his daughter's face. Finally he said in a flat voice, "he tried to kill Amy." 

"He tried to kill his sister?" Ray's voice was equal parts disbelief and disgust. 

"Amy was seven months old. She was fussing in her crib, wanting to be fed. Les went into a rage because of the baby's crying. He picked up a children's baseball bat and . . . and hit her . . . again and again." He rubbed his eyes to erase the visions he still saw. "Amy had massive head injuries. She very nearly died. After that, I wouldn't have him in this house. My wife was terrified of him He never showed any remorse, no . . . well, it wasn't a case of a child not knowing the consequences . . . he meant to kill Amy." 

"It was a long time ago," Amy said softly. 

Her father nodded. "Yes, a long time ago. Amy's been blind ever since." 

The porch swing creaked, the flowering vines on the veranda rail rustled in the breeze. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Ray took a card out of his pocket and passed it to Burke. 

"If you can think of any information that might help us find your son, please call me at that number." 

"Tell me what you think he's done." 

"We have an unusual murder in Chicago we would like to talk to him about." 

"The Calendar killer?" whispered Amy. "I heard about it on the radio." 

"Mr. Burke, we'll need to talk to your brother," said Fraser. 

"Wait here. I'll write out the directions to his farm." 

They eventually found the farm. Robert Burke was written in large black letters on the mailbox. Stopping the car on the gravel drive between the old farmhouse and the barn, they studied their surroundings. The very pungent odor of hogs began to seep into the car. 

"Whew! And everyone's worried about the air pollution in downtown Chicago" Ray remarked, waving his hand in front of his face to ward off the offensive smell. 

"Actually, Ray, I believe there is some concern about the effects of methane produced by livestock on the earth's ozone layer." 

"Benny, directly above that barn, I betcha there's a hole in the ozone the size of Texas." 

As the men climbed out of the car, a small border collie raced out of the barn, barking furiously. 

"Go away, Lassie," Ray made shooing motions with his hands. 

A stout farmer in bib overalls emerged from the barn behind the collie. The farmer called the dog, who paid no attention, and continued to bark and threaten the visitors. Fraser knelt and held out a hand. The collie stopped barking, sniffed the hand, and her tail began to wave. Soon her whole body was wagging in time with the tail. 

"You guys lost?" asked the farmer. 

"Are you Robert Burke?" said Ray 

"Who's askin'?" 

As the farmer approached, the odor of hogs got considerably stronger. Ray was mentally regretting the sausage and eggs he'd had for breakfast. "Ray Vecchio, Chicago P.D. This is Benton Fraser, R.C.M.P., he's here in his capacity as consultant." 

"That's not exactly true . . . " Fraser began 

"Never mind, Fraser." Ray interrupted. "Are you Robert Burke?" he asked turning back to the farmer. 

"Happens I am," said Burke hands on hips, he was studying Rays bandaged head with some interest. 

"We're here to ask you a few questions about your nephew Lester" said Ray, pulling a notebook from his pocket. 

"Les give you that fancy hat?" The old farmer laughed pointing at the bandage. "Well, I ain't surprised. Wonder the cops haven't been here sooner askin' about him." 

"Whaddaya mean?" asked Ray. 

Robert Burke snorted, "That boy's always been the devil's right hand. Born bad, I reckon. And you cops are just now gettin' around to lookin' for him." 

"What are you saying?" repeated Vecchio. 

"You guys come with me." Burke turned and made his way back toward the barn. " I gotta finish my chores, gettin' dark." He lead the way into the huge old building. 

Straw and debris of every sort lay ankle deep on the floor. Cob webs, baling twine and loose wire hung from the beams and posts. Ray and Fraser stopped and watched Robert as he scooped feed and poured it into a long trough. Piglets squealed and wiggled and fought for a place at the trough. Ray wondered how long he could hold his breath. Luckily, Fraser didn't seem to be affected by the hog fumes, he had began to question the man. 

"Sir, have you spoken to Les in the last six months?" 

"Ain't seen nor heard of him in more'n . . . oh. . . .eighteen years, I guess." Answered Burke, continuing to scoop feed. 

"That would put Les at about age 12 when you saw him last?" 

"Yup, that's about right," agreed Burke. 

"Sir, did Lester have any friends that he might have kept in contact with?" 

"Best and only friend the boy ever had was my wife, Laura. She loved that boy like he was her own. Loved him better'n his own ma did." Robert moved away from the pigs and went further into the barn. 

"Gotta throw some hay to the calves. 

Fraser trailed behind, seeming oblivious to the filth and odor. Ray wanted to break and run for the outside. The stench and heat were so thick inside the old barn, he was only keeping breakfast down by sheer strength of will. 

Fraser helped lift several bales across a fence into the feed lot. "Mr. Burke, you mentioned your wife. Is she here?" 

"Burke stopped throwing hay and stared at Fraser. "No, she ain't here . . . she's dead." 

"I see, I'm sorry." 

"Been dead eighteen years." 

"She died about the time Les left?" asked Fraser. 

Robert Burke sat down on one of the hay bales. "You boys wanna know 'bout Les? Well, I'll tell ya." He pulled a tin of Skoal from his overall pocket and inserted a large pinch into his cheek. "When my brother, Charlie, told us 'bout what Les done to his sister, my wife didn't believe it. Laura said Les was just a kid, didn't know what he done. She's the one wanted the boy to come live with us. 'Course, Charlie agreed. He was afraid to keep Les at home with Amy. 

"Anyhow, my wife fussed over that boy. She read to him, played with him 'cause he didn't have no friends. They was unseparable, you know? He was with us for four years.....and every day of them years, evil was livin' in my house." Burke spat tobacco juice inches from Ray's Italian shoes. 

"Evil?" Fraser prompted. 

Burke made a snorting sound and began again. "Wasn't never a month went by, somethin' horrible didn't happen. Chickens drowned in the 

water troughs . . .pigs strangled in barbed wire, calves gittin' in rat poison . . . it was Les, had to been. But Laura never believed it. She never believed he was bad. 

"What happened to your wife?" Fraser asked 

"Fell outta the hay loft, broke her neck." said Burke. 

Fraser studied the weathered face of the old man. "And you think Les had something to do with her death?" 

"Lived on this farm for thirty years, she did. Never once went up in that loft. Whadda you think?" 

Fraser nodded. "We're sorry, Mr. Burke. Did the police take Lester?" 

"Police said Laura's death was an accident. Les ran away that night. Never saw him again." The farmer's shoulders slumped, he looked older. "If he'd stayed, I'd of killed him." 

Fraser turned to steer the detective out of the barn, "Come on, Ray, it's a long drive back to Chicago." 

When the Buick was back on the highway headed toward Chicago, Ray said, "Benny, this is like some Stephen King horror movie. The more we learn about this kid, the scarier it gets." 

"I agree, Ray." 

"Ya know, this was a wild goose chase. We didn't learn one thing that will help us find this punk." 

"It would seem so, Ray." 

"We're wastin' time, spinnin' our wheels." Ray emphasized his words by drumming on the steering wheel. "We shouldda stayed in the city and done follow up there." 

"Ray, officers have been assigned to question everyone near the campus to determine if they witnessed anything that might relate to the killing." 

Fraser was stating the obvious, but it seemed Ray needed to hear it. He continued, "Until the medical examiner can give us some facts about the victim, we are pretty much at a stand still." 

"Yeah, right, we're at a stand still. But, Benny, the killer isn't. He's planning his next murder right now." 

"Very probably." 

"Damn it, Fraser, I should have had him. I was as close to him as I am to you right now. I let that bastard get away." 

"You didn't let him get away, Ray. He hit you with a bat." 

Ray ran his hand over the bandages on his head. "Right. I let him outsmart me." He paused for a moment, then he said, "Somebody else is gonna die 'cause I let this psycho get away." 

"You were in an unfamiliar place, you couldn't have known the killer could double back and get behind you." Fraser stated logically. 

But Ray wouldn't give up the guilt. "Don't you get it, Benny, if I'd had my gun out . . . been ready . . . I could've shot the scum . . . stopped him right there." 

"We will get him, Ray. Never doubt it." Fraser spoke quietly, but there was absolute conviction in his voice. 

Ray glanced sideways at the Mountie. Fraser's jaw was set in that stubborn angle Ray recognized. "You're right. We will get him." __________________________________________________________ 

The interviews had taken most of the day. Fraser had offered to drive back home, but Ray declined, saying the drive would help him think. Fraser suspected that Ray didn't want to hand over the keys to him. And when Fraser thought about his history with the Riv, he couldn't blame Ray at all. He suggested that Ray just drop him off at his apartment so he could check on Diefenbaker and let Ray call it a day. But he let himself be talked into dinner at the Vecchio's as long as Dief could tag along. 

As usual, dinner at the Vecchio's was pandemonium. There was squabbling, arguing, kids screaming and Dief hiding under the table. The first few times Fraser had been to Ray's for dinner he felt as if he had been dropped into another world. The quiet, orderly meals he was used to were replaced by a three ring circus, with Ray's mother acting as ring master. Now he could actually pick out conversations and enjoy himself. He wondered how Ray's headache was faring with all the noise. 

Midway through the meal the phone rang. With a shout of "I'll get it" Francesca bounded from the table and into the front hall. She returned moments later, looking defeated and mumbled to Ray that it was for him. Shooting a quick a glance in Fraser's direction he went to answer the call. 

As if on cue all conversation at the table stopped. Even the kids seemed aware of the tension. 

A call from the hall brought both Fraser and Mrs. Vecchio to their feet. "C'mon Benny, let's go! That was Elaine. They've I.D.'ed the victim." 

Looking down into the older woman's anxious face, he tried to reassure her. "Don't worry, I'll look after him." 

She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. "I know you will, figlio mio. Make sure you look out for yourself, too. I worry about both of you." 

Ray poked his head around the door. "C'mon, Benny, let's go!" 

**** 

The Riv darted through traffic, running yellows and edging up on 

slow moving traffic. "You know, Ray, if we're in an accident on the way to the station it's not going to get us there any faster." 

Benton Fraser was clutching the dashboard, trying to brace himself in the careening car. 

"You're startin' to sound like my mother Benny. I'm in complete control." Turning to look at his friend, Fraser could see that this couldn't have been farther from the truth. The Calendar Killer, as the papers had already named him, had quickly become a private war for Ray. 

"That may be so Ray, but she always strikes me as being a wise woman." He paused. "Ray, I'm curious, exactly what does 'figlio mio' mean?" 

"Huh, you taking up Italian Benny? It means 'my son', why?" He stole a quick look at his friend, catching Fraser's fleeting smile. 

Fraser's response was lost as the Riv turned into the station's parking lot, on two wheels. 

**** 

Elaine handed the file to Ray. "This is everything we have on the victim. Caucasian, female, age 24. Dark brown hair, brown eyes. 5'4" and 120 pounds. No distinguishing marks or physical defects. Nothing that makes her stand out as a target. " She sighed. "From the evidence we have, we were able to make a positive I.D. A friend reported her missing when she didn't show up at her apartment last night. Her name's Amanda Baxter. She was living just off campus limits. She was enrolled at the college on a part time basis. I can't remember for sure, but I think she was working in a daycare run by the college. It's all in the file. There's also a statement from the friend. The standard stuff. The victim had no enemies, she was quiet...well you know." She shuddered. "Looks like we have a nasty one. " 

"Cause of death, Elaine?" Ray's voice was uncharacteristically quiet. 

"You'd have to talk to the M.E. for the details, but it doesn't look like she was alive when..." 

She didn't have to finish her sentence. "I did the background checks you asked for, Ray. They're in the file. If you're hunch is right, he's been a busy boy the last few years." 

But she was talking to Vecchio's back. He had started to walk back to his desk, his face ashen, leaving both Fraser and Elaine standing there. 

"Thank you for your help, Elaine. I..." 

She smiled at him. "It's okay Fraser, anytime." 

**** 

Benton found Ray sitting at his desk, the file unopened. He sat down in the chair opposite the desk and waited for Ray to come out of his reverie. He started to wonder if he shouldn't have a talk with Lt. Welsh, a small doubt that Ray wasn't quite fit for duty had started to form in the back of his mind. 

"Did you hear the description of the girl, Benny? Elaine coulda been describing Frannie. She's been taking courses off and on. Thank God she wasn't there that night. " He flipped the folder open. Dividing the contents in half , he handed Fraser a bundle of papers and photographs. "May as well get started on this. Clocks tickin'" 

The two sat silently pouring over the file. Fraser had long since moved to a vacant desk scanning each page and photo. A trail of unsolved murders leading away from Illinois and then back again seem to unfold. The victims were all young women in their twenties, dark haired and slight builds. At each murder scene a note was found warning of the next murder. Until now, no one had connected the murders in several different states. No clues were ever traced to a killer. Until now. Fraser wondered why the killer had risked being identified by allowing Ray to live. It didn't seem to make any sense. 

"Ray, it seems a task force was set up the last time a set of murders occurred. Do you think we should contact them to see if they came across any clues as to the killer's identity? Right now we're just working on the assumption that the killer is Burke. " 

"You can if you want to. But I've got a hunch we're on the right track. The pieces are all pointing to him. He's one sick puppy." 

"We haven't even established that he's in Chicago or that he's still alive, for that matter." Fraser started to protest. 

"Look, Benny, it's him. He's here and this is where it's going to end." He got up and scooped the papers from his desk. "I'm heading down to DMV to see if he's got any outstanding tickets and then we'll take it from there. A lot of cases are solved because some jerk didn't pay a parking ticket. Are you coming?" 

"Don't you think you should get some sleep before you start this? It's 4:00 a.m. I know I could use some sleep. We've got a few days before he's supposed to strike again. Why give him an edge because we're worn out?" 

Ray agreed, grudgingly. "Alright. But I want to get an early start . And what do you mean we? Aren't you supposed to be working today?" 

"I decided to take a few days off to help you with this. " 

Ray's face flushed with anger. "I don't need a babysitter or a 

bodyguard, Fraser." 

"I know you don't, Ray." He started to walk to the door. "I promised your mother." After a few hours sleep, the two of them headed to DMV in the hopes of coming up with a solid lead that would place Burke in Chicago. They found no records of a Lester Burke having any sort of traffic violations or past tickets. The three Lester Burkes that did have valid driver's licenses turned out to be dead ends. With each failed lead Fraser saw his friend's frustration grow. 

"This is getting us nowhere. He's not going to be that easy to find. He's a damned ghost, Benny. I know it's him. " He checked his watch. "I gotta get going, if I'm going to make it to the appointment with the M.E. After that I'm heading over to talk to the police psych, see if we can't get some sort of profile on this guy. Want to come along?" 

"No, Ray, thanks. I think I'll head back to my apartment and get a couple more hours of sleep. I'll check back with you. Good luck. Let me know if you find anything ." 

He knew that sounded lame, but the mystery surrounding the missing body had been bothering him. A thorough search of the college grounds would answer his questions and perhaps prove his suspicions. 

**** 

The elevator door whooshed open. Ray stepped into an institutional green corridor that stretched endlessly in both directions. A small sign read Cook County Morgue. A tall redhead dressed in green surgical scrubs trotted past him, her arms full of folders. 

"Where's Doctor Pearson?" He asked 

She pointed a finger out from under the folders. "Down there, last door on the left." 

Ray walked past two paramedics pushing a zippered vinyl bag strapped to the top of a gurney. At the end of the corridor, a door was marked Dr. E. L. Pearson. Ray opened it and went in. The office was more depressing than the corridor. The same shade of green, but most of the floor space was taken by a scared and stained oak desk and an equally battered filing cabinet. 

"Hey, Doc." Ray greeted the attractive medical examiner. "Understand you finally got something for us on the decapitation at Southwestern." 

"Just one second, Ray," Dr Pearson turned back to her computer and made another series of entries before switching off the terminal. 

"Now," she said giving the detective her full attention. "You realize that without the body of this young woman, we are limited in the amount of information we can provide." 

Detective Vecchio nodded. She chose a chart from her desktop and began to read. "This is what we know. Female, Caucasian, age approximately 22 to 24 years, height between five foot four and five foot six, weight between one hundred ten and one hundred twenty pounds, brown hair, brown eyes. My examination revealed no unusual characteristics. No signs of previous head injuries, very limited dental work. Blood type A-positive, no sign of drugs or medications in the system. 

Ray nodded again. The pervasive smell of chemicals was causing another blinding headache. He rubbed the bandages at his temples. "OK, Doc, so tell me about her death." 

"Death appears to have been caused by strangulation. We found ligature marks on her neck. Other lab tests confirmed that probability." 

Dr Pearson pulled two photographs from the file and passed them to Ray. "See the marks? We found traces of adhesive on her lips and cheeks. Probably residue from duct tape. She has abrasions and contusions on her face and scalp indicating that she was handled roughly before and after her death." Dr Pearson pointed to several marks that showed clearly in the photo. 

The M.E.'s voice was totally devoid of emotion. Ray wondered how she could remain so detached when she dealt with these intimate horrors on a daily basis. 

"What about the weapon he used to strangle her?" 

"Polyvinyl cord, probably clothesline. Very common, impossible to trace." 

"What did he use to sever her head?" Ray's own head was much worse. He sat on the edge of the desk and continued to rub his forehead. 

"He used a hacksaw, common blade, cheap, available at every hardware store in the country. We found traces of metal on the victim's neck indicating that the same blade was used to cut painted aluminum before the killer used it on her." The M.E. paused, closed the folder and leaned back in her chair. "I'm sorry detective, until you find her body, there isn't much more I can tell you." 

"Yeah, well, thanks." Ray was anxious to leave this cavern of death and escape into the fresh air and sunlight. 

"I'll send the report over to the precinct as soon as the clerk gets it typed." Dr Pearson called as Ray left her office. 

Ray sat in his car in front of the county morgue for a long time. The photos of the victim had brought back that moment when he had regained consciousness on the Southwestern University campus and come 

face to face with the severed head. During his years with the police force he had seen some gruesome deaths, but finding that head, inches from his own, had affected him as no other crime ever had. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Eventually the throbbing in his temples subsided. He drove back to the 27th Precinct and spent the rest of the morning going over warrants and recent arrests, hoping the name Burke might show up. 

Fraser and Dief started their search of the grounds at the staircase. The police report had indicated that there was no blood at the scene, other than Ray's. Forensics had found no footprints or evidence of a second person. Whoever had been there had been very careful to sweep the area clean of all traces . Except for the note and the girl. He was sure they were dealing with the same killer. He just didn't share Ray's conviction that it was Burke. 

A quick and excited bark from Diefenbaker drew Fraser's attention to the top of the stairs. The wolf was standing there, obviously agitated. Racing to the top, he lost sight of Diefenbaker. Then he noticed a rustling in a nearby planting of bushes. The wolf's head poked out from the leaves. When he approached the area he saw what Diefenbaker had found. There, clinging to a branch was an earring. It was a simple, silver loop, matching the one that had been found on the dead girl. Standing there, with the earring in his hand, Fraser tried to determine the killer's route. The bushes were almost in a straight line to the stairs. The killer had said that it was time to go to work. That could have meant the killing hadn't taken place yet, as both he and Ray had assumed. Or it could have meant just that, he had to go to work. That could explain the earring in the bushes. When Ray was chasing him, the killer could have dropped his trophy into the bushes and then later returned for it. Ray must have arrived there just after the killing! 

Fraser tried to remember everything in Ray's report about where the chase began. He was sure it had started near the college's science complex. It was as good a place as any to start. He made a mental note to contact the maintenance staff for a map of the buildings. It was a large campus and they were running out of time. They only had a few days to discover the killer's identity and then find him. 

A quick search around the outside of the buildings revealed nothing. The everyday traffic of students had removed any possible signs or clues. Fraser hadn't expected to find anything. It was obvious that the murder hadn't taken place outside, where anyone could have interrupted it. The killer needed a private place where he could wash away all traces of his crime. They had no body and no clues and time was running out. 

**** 

Dr. Samuel Griffin had an office at the top of the Fairfax Building. The entire east wall of his office was glass, affording a panoramic view of streets, rooftops and a glimpse of Lake Michigan between taller building. Ray wondered what Dr Griffin charged his patients per hour. Judging from the location and the furnishing, Ray guessed Griffin charged a bundle. 

Dr Griffin was an expert in the field of criminal psychology. The Chicago police department frequently called on the doctor to assist in investigations involving murder. 

Griffin sat in a black leather and chrome chair behind a massive ebony desk. 

"Detective Vecchio, your killer appears to be conflicted. His contact with you . . .the note he left at the murder scene . . .both indicate a subconscious desire to be caught. This man is compelled to kill, but on another level, he wants someone to stop him before he kills again." 

"So, why doesn't he just turn himself in?" Ray wasn't sure he believed in this psychological mumbo-jumbo. 

"Rage," the psychologist stated. "This kind of brutal murder and mutilation indicate extreme rage. The killer is unable to deal with these emotions in a more . . .ah . . .socially acceptable manner." 

"What about the note? Is he serious, will he kill someone else on the fourteenth?" 

"Yes. Absolutely. He will kill on the days he mentions in this note. But, Detective, he will not stop there. He will continue to kill until he is caught." 

"Well, exactly what kind of a nut case am I looking for?" 

"The police haven't provided me much information to draw my conclusions from." The doctor swivelled in his expensive chair and focussed his gaze on the expensive art work hanging on his wall. 

"Statistically, he is male, Caucasian, twenty to thirty years old. His intelligence is above average. He is a loner, he doesn't have any close friends. He is subject to periods of severe depression. He probably also displays frequent bouts of temper." 

"Yeah, well tell me something that is gonna help me catch him before 

he kills somebody else." 

The doctor rose from his chair and crossed the room to make a minute adjustment in the placement of pre-Columbian fertility statue. 

"For the most part, these individuals learn to function fairly well in society. They appear normal in every respect. Co-workers, neighbours, seldom see any sign of aberrant behaviour. Each case is slightly different, but the individual can go for periods of time without committing a murder. When something triggers his aggressive behaviour he will act out his fantasy repeatedly." 

"Will the pattern always be the same? I mean, will he always kill young women?" Ray asked. 

"The pattern almost never deviates once it is established." The psychologist paced around the room, straightening a painting, moving a antique vase. 

"So, what you're saying is that this guy is Mr Average. Nobody that knows him is gonna suspect he's whacking off heads?" 

"Precisely." 

Vecchio stood. "Well, if that's all you can tell me." He exited the posh office, making a mental note. When he got back to his desk at the 27th, he intended to file yet another report. He would recommend that whatever the city of Chicago paid Dr Griffin for his incites, it was way too much. 

**** 

Fraser spotted one of the maintenance crew coming out of a nearby building. He shouted and waved to get the man's attention. 

"Excuse me, I was wondering if it might be possible to get a map of the university campus. What I need is a plan of the buildings." 

The man stared at him quizzically. "Oh really, and who are you?" He looked to be in his early thirties and full of attitude. "Does administration know you're snooping around here? Maybe I should just call security and let them deal with you." 

"No, that won't be necessary. You see, I'm working with the Chicago Police Department, on the murder of that young girl." He nearly winced at the lie, or at least the stretch of the truth. 

"If that's true, let me see your badge. " Fraser knew he was going to get nowhere. 

"I think I had better go to administration and explain all of this to them. I'm sorry to have troubled you." He started to walk away but turned abruptly, he had forgotten to thank the man for his time. He may have been infuriating but that was no excuse to be impolite. When he turned the man had gone. Fraser took a quick look in all directions but didn't see him. Strange. 

**** 

Andrea Bartolotti scanned the headlines of the Chicago Tribune. She shuddered at the thought of someone that sick prowling around the streets of Chicago. She had dealt with muggers and hecklers and had survived. She wasn't a street kid but she had learned how to take care of herself. Only 17, when she had finally decided she could no longer stay in a house with a parent bent on self destruction. Her mother had given her all the lies an alcoholic could give and Andrea had believed every one of them. She grew weary of covering for her mother and left. She hated being a cliche. And refused to remain one. She wasn't going to be some poor little rich kid that disappeared when things got rough. She was going to survive and had been doing just that for the last seven years. A decent job as a junior copy editor for a small publisher had finally turned into the stepping stone for her present position as an assistant editor at a large, academic publishing house. She had made it. A great paying job had allowed her to return to school on a part time basis. She was just relieved it wasn't at the university's main campus but a smaller satellite school. 

She felt an arm reach around her shoulders. "Hey, hon. You're up early. What ya readin'?" She lifted the paper higher, seeing he had left his glasses on the night stand. 

He squinted at the headlines. "Calendar killer. Yeah, that's all anyone seems to be talking about." He paused and she was sure she knew what was coming. "Andie, why don't you take a break from classes for a couple of weeks. At least until the police find this guy." 

She turned to look into troubled green eyes. "You are such a worry wart, Alex. I'll be careful, as always. The semester's just started and I don't want to have to play catch up. Besides, the college has hired so many security guards to patrol at night, there are more of them than there are students." She smiled and tousled his dark curls. "C'mon, let's make some breakfast. I'm starved and I've got an early meeting. And so do you, bud." 

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She loved him more than she thought she could love anyone. 

**** 

Ray sat at his desk and massaged his temples. His elbows were propped on the front page of the Chicago Tribune. The headlines seemed to be mocking him. CALENDAR KILLER BAFFLES POLICE 

He reached for his phone the phone and dialed the Canadian Consulate. The bilingual operator answered in English and then French. 

"Constable Fraser," Ray responded when she finally finished her prepared speech. 

After a long wait, "Benton Fraser." 

"Fraser, it's the fourteenth." 

"Yes it is, Ray." the detective didn't have to explain, Fraser was aware of the significance of the date. 

"I'm goin' back up to the Southwestern campus tonight. Wanna ride along?" 

"Sure, Ray, pick me up any time after six thirty." 

Ray spent the next several hours checking on various uniform patrols scheduled for that night. The Chicago police department was taking Lester Burke's threat very seriously. They had an unprecedented number of policemen on duty tonight. Most of the manpower was assigned at or near Southwestern University. 

Shortly after 7:00, Ray picked Fraser up at his apartment. Fraser held the front seat forward to allow Diefenbaker to jump into the back of Ray's Buick. 

"Seen today's paper?" Ray said, tossing the offensive front page into Fraser's lap. 

Fraser read the headlines, then skipped down to the column header. "Killer taunts police." He quoted. 

"I'd like to taunt that reporter," Ray snarled. 

"Ray, you've got to calm down and keep this case in perspective. You're taking everything much too personally. It's interfering with your ability to do your job." 

"Fraser, that scum bag, Lester Burke, made this personal." 

"You have to remain objective and rational, you can't let emotion cloud your judgement." 

Ray snatched the paper from Fraser's hands, crumbled it and threw it into the back seat. "Fraser, that's what you're here for, to be calm, logical and objective. Me, I'm here to send this creep to hell." Ray mimed a gun with his right hand and then pulled the imaginary trigger. 

The detective drove to the Southwestern campus and then began to drive in random patterns around the university. "We're lookin' for a needle in a haystack." 

Fraser sat with the case file open on his knees. He had read every piece of paper in the file enough times to have them memorized. He continued to stare at the written words as though they might rearrange themselves into a different pattern and give him the all important clue. 

"We need more information." he said finally. 

"Well, you're gonna get more information real soon. This psycho's gonna kill somebody else tonight and give you twenty more pages of information to study." 

The sarcasm was lost on Fraser. He sat silently, fairly certain that Ray was right. 

Darkness came early in mid-September. As the two men drove, they watched groups of students appear in pools of light cast by overhead lamps, then they would disappear into the darkness as they walked beyond the lamp's range. Police cars and campus security cars passed. Uniformed police were prominent on sidewalks and in parking areas. 

Ray glanced at his watch, 9:25. "Maybe we scared him, Benny. Maybe he isn't coming out tonight." 

"Maybe." But neither man really held much hope that the calendar killer would forgo his plan to kill on the fourteenth. 

A few minutes later, Ray's cell phone rang. "Vecchio." 

"Hello, Ray, how's that head?" The voice was pleasant, friendly. 

"Lester Burke," Ray said. 

Fraser came to attention in the passenger seat. 

"Yeah, it's me, Ray," Burke continued in that smooth, friendly manner. "Hey, I got a little poem for you." 

"Burke, don't do this. We know who you are, it's only a matter of time before we catch you." 

"Ray, you sound so serious. This is just a little game. Listen, here's the poem. One-two-three-four, pretty coeds, lock your door. When the corner clock strikes ten, time for me to kill again." 

"Burke, turn yourself in. We can get you help . . ." 

"Ray, I don't need help." He paused for a moment. "Do you think you can find me before I do something . . .naughty?" Burke laughed. 

"Lester, where are you, let's talk about . . ." Ray heard the click. Burke had hung up. 

Ray threw the phone onto the dash where it bounced against the windshield. "How'd that bastard get my phone number?" 

"Did you have the phone with you when he knocked you unconscious, Ray?" Fraser questioned. 

"Yeah," Ray snorted. 

"What did Burke say?" 

Ray took a deep breath, "He read me a poem." 

"Repeat it." 

Ray repeated the short rhyme. 

Both men were silent, trying to find some meaning in Burke's words. Then Fraser spoke, "He's telling us where and when he plans to kill his next victim." 

"Yeah, ten o'clock . . .but where?" 

Fraser closed his eyes and repeated the poem. "The key words 

are four, door, lock and clock, Ray. We know what the four means. Door, uncertain. Now, lock and clock. Where would you find a corner clock that had some connection with locks?" 

The detective shrugged. 

"The clock at the National Lock foundry," Fraser answered his own question. 

"About three blocks from Mt Morris college." Ray added. "It's nine thirty. If the killer keeps his word, we've got thirty minutes to stop him." 

Ray sent the Buick into a one-hundred-eighty-degree spin and pushed the accelerator to the floor. Grabbing the radio mike, he called dispatch and translated Fraser's theory into a series of number codes. 

Blocks before they reached the foundry, they could hear sirens. Blue and red lights flashed ahead of and behind them. Ray brought the car to a screeching stop at the intersection under the massive foundry clock. Policemen, already on the scene, were organizing to begin a methodical search of the area. Ray joined them, Fraser followed with Diefenbaker. 

"You two take the alley," barked the sergeant, then he turned to send two more officers in another direction. 

Fraser sprinted across the street toward the alley, Ray ran behind, trying to keep up. At the mouth of the alley, Diefenbaker veered left and began to bark. The wolf stopped at a recessed doorway two hundred feet from the alley entrance. Close behind him, Fraser halted too. 

As Vecchio approached, he could see the grisly object lying in the shadows of the doorway. "It's only nine-fifty-two. The son-of-a-bitch said ten o'clock." Ray sounded stunned. 

Fraser pointed to the clock above the foundry. It read twelve minutes after ten. Ten minutes fast. Fraser started back toward the sergeant's car to lead the forensic team to the site of the second bodiless head. Ray leaned on the bricks beside the doorway and waited, and blamed himself. 

As the Mountie recrossed the street, he glimpsed a movement deep in the shadows of the alley. He stood absolutely still and focussed all his senses. Yes, again a small movement. Something light coloured. He began to run. Burke. 

__________________________________________________________________ 

As Vecchio approached, he could see the grisly object lying in the shadows of the doorway. "It's only nine-fifty-two. The son-of-a-bitch said ten o'clock." Ray sounded stunned. 

Fraser pointed to the clock above the foundry. It read twelve minutes after ten. Ten minutes fast. Fraser started back toward the sergeant's car to lead the forensic team to the site of the second bodiless head. Ray leaned on the bricks beside the doorway and waited, and blamed himself. 

As the Mountie recrossed the street, he glimpsed a movement deep in the shadows of the alley. He stood absolutely still and focussed all his senses. Yes, again a small movement. Something light colored. He began to run toward the movement. 

Sound exploded ahead. His quarry was running too, judging from the noise, he was having trouble making his way through the garbage and refuse littering the alley. A crash and a muffled curse. For just a moment, a man wearing a white shirt was clearly visible in the light from a window. The man disappeared back into the shadows. Fraser continued at full speed. He was gaining very fast. Silence ahead. Fraser slowed. The sound of breaking glass. Fraser could see him now. The man in the white shirt had stopped running and turned to fight. He waited, crouched, a broken whisky bottle in his hand. 

"Lester Burke?" Fraser asked. 

No answer. 

The Mountie moved forward. The man in white swung the jagged bottle at Fraser's face. 

Fraser ducked to avoid the glass."Put down the bottle, Lester." 

The man lunged. Fraser moved sideways and kicked the man's legs sending him sprawling, face down, onto the pavement. Before he could regain his feet, Fraser had a knee on his back and his right arm drawn up hard behind him. The man began to scream and thrash wildly. It took all of the Mountie's strength to maintain his hold. Eventually the man stopped fighting and lay still. He began to sob loudly. 

Fraser pulled him to his feet and pushed him back down the alley toward the entrance. 

"No, I ain't goin' back out there," the man cried. 

Fraser propelled him several more yards into the alley. 

"No, please. Don't make me go back out there." He began to struggle again. His sobbing became frantic. "I won't go out there. I won't go near that thing." He was screaming now. 

"What thing?' Fraser stopped pushing him. 

"I saw it. I saw him take that . . .that thing outta the bag and leave it out there by the door. You can't make me go near it. You can't make me look at it again." 

Fraser took a close look at the man. Probably in his late thirties, husky build, long, stringy hair. This didn't fit the 

description of Lester Burke. "Who are you?" 

Flashlights were moving down the alley toward them. Police, guns drawn, surrounded the two men. An officer stepped forward and put handcuffs on the man in white. 

"I'm afraid this isn't the killer." Fraser said. 

A policeman directed his flashlight beam in Fraser's face. "You caught the guy fleeing from the scene of a murder. What makes you think he isn't the killer?" 

"It isn't Burke." Ray stepped around the officers and stopped in front of the handcuffed man. "Did you see him? Did you see the killer?" He asked. 

The man nodded. "Yes, God help me, I saw him." 

"Take him back to the station." Ray told the uniformed officer holding the man. "Fraser, let's check out the scene, see what we can find." 

**** 

Andrea smiled, as she made her way across Mt. Morris college. Alex had insisted on driving her to the campus and promised to meet her promptly at 10:00, when classes let out. She had always been independent but somehow didn't mind his fussing about her. It was nice to have someone look out for her. As she reached the place they arranged to meet, she saw he wasn't there. Checking her watch, she realized she was early. She must have flown across the college grounds. It usually took her at least ten minutes to get from her building to the college entrance. She waved to a passing security car, reassured that they were out patrolling. As much as she had made light of Alex's suggestion to not go to class for a while, the thought of the Calendar Killer had made her nervous. She looked at her watch again. Alex would be there soon. 

The sound of footsteps and humming startled her. Andrea looked to her left and saw a man walking towards her. Her first instinct was to run, but to where? His demeanour didn't seem threatening, but she was prepared to run if necessary. As he got closer, she saw his knapsack and books under his arm. She almost sighed with relief, just another student. Andrea gave him a nervous smile as he approached and had started to tell him that he had startled her. Something in his face made her smile fade and her words die in her throat. 

"Stop your crying, Amy " His voice was savage as his hand snaked around her throat, cutting off her air. Andrea felt herself being dragged behind the building as she tried her best to fight him, knowing that with each passing second the lack of oxygen brought her closer to unconsciousness. When Burke lifted her into his van she had stopped struggling. 

His breathing was ragged as he jumped into the driver's seat. Two killings in one night had been daring. What luck. The foundry clock had been fast. He hadn't lied to Vecchio, he murdered both women at 10:00. Being careful to not draw any suspicion towards himself, he pulled his van slowly onto the road. As he passed under a street lamp, the large black letters spelling out university maintenance could be clearly seen. And hadn't Vecchio been surprised to hear from him again, so soon. Burke could almost feel the rage in Vecchio's voice. Stupid cop, he loved leading him around by the nose. He smiled with grim satisfaction, as a green Riviera passed him, heading for Mt. Morris College. 

**** 

Burke had beaten them at every turn. Three killings in ten days and they were no closer to finding him. They had contacted his family again to see if he had been touch with them. Both families could offer no help. Robert Burke's only response was that if Lester came near his property he would do what he should have done years ago. 

"Mad dogs should be put down, Detective. It's better for them, it's better for everyone." Ray shook his head. "That's what he said. As an officer of the law I should've cautioned him against taking matters into his own hands. But ya know, Benny? I hope that if we don't get him, his uncle does. Lester Burke has destroyed too many lives." 

Fraser only grunted in acknowledgement. He had the university maps spread out on the desk in front of him. Twice he had looked up as if to say something to Ray, but then thought better of it. Ray realized that this was the first time he had ever seen Fraser look frustrated. If the situation hadn't been so serious, he could have almost seen some humour in it. 

"Benny, you been going over those maps like they're some clue to a treasure hunt. What are you looking for?" 

Fraser looked up. "Not treasure, Ray. Well not in the traditional sense. It's the missing bodies. What has he done with them? " He tapped the maps with a pencil. "The answer's here, I just can't see it. Help me with this, Ray. I'm missing something. This is what we know. He's obviously familiar with the campus grounds, both campuses. He is committing the killings indoors then leaving the heads at another location. He's using crude tools to commit his crime and has a foolproof 

way of disposing of the bodies. What is he doing with them? At one point you said he was a ghost. Maybe he is. He manages to travel between locations committing these crimes and never a witness." 

"Except for the guy in the alley." 

"Except for the guy in the alley. But we didn't really learn much from him. Burke doesn't seemed concerned about being seen. He let both you and the other man live. It's almost as if it doesn't matter to him. He's that sure of himself." Fraser rubbed his tired eyes. "If we knew why he was killing these women we could probably anticipate his next move." 

"Well, we're never going to know that unless he tells us. And I don't think that's going to happen. So what kind of person fits what we do know about him? A shadow on campus with access to the buildings and crude tools." 

Fraser's eyes widened. Ray's description had been so simple and succinct, he wondered how he could have missed it! 

"He works for maintenance! Ray, he has to! It fits everything. He would have access to all the buildings, would know the grounds intimately and would probably go unnoticed by most people. Do you know the maintenance staff in this building?" 

"Well, no...but.." 

"My point exactly. You see them every day but you never notice them until you need them. And Ray...I think this answers our question about where he is hiding the bodies. If I'm right, he's not hiding them, he's destroying them. You said you spotted Burke that first night by the science buildings. According to this map they are running their own waste management program. He could be using the furnaces. Do you think we could get a warrant to search the buildings?" 

"I think the way the upper brass is feeling we could probably get anything we ask for. Benny, you're a genius. If we find out he's been using the buildings then we are that much closer to catching him. Man, he's a bloody Phantom of the Opera. Sneakin' around, killing people..." 

"Ray?" Elaine had come to stand beside him. " I've been doing a little digging and I think I've come up with the victim profile. All the women have been between the ages of 20-24. They are all about the same height and build. Around 5'2" to 5'5" and weigh between 100 to 120 pounds. They are all dark haired. He is definitely killing the same woman over and over again. I just pray that if she is still among the living that she is far away from here. How could anyone possibly hate that much?" 

"Thanks, Elaine. I know that you've put in a lot of extra time on this. We appreciate the help. Maybe we can get this guy before we're forced to put together some task force. All that ever does is get a whole lotta cops walkin' over each other trying to work with the same clues." 

Elaine brushed back a loose strand of hair and smiled. "Well I have to admit that, as gruesome as it seems, I'm as much fascinated as I am horrified by the whole thing." She frowned and nodded in Fraser's direction. "What's he looking at?" 

"It's a map of the university grounds. We think we might have found...Well actually Benny found it. We think we know what he's been doing with the bodies. So now he's plotting out our search strategy. I'm just waiting to get the okay on another warrant to make the search." Getting another warrant to inspect the grounds had taken no time. The focus of their search was the large furnace found in the basement of one of the science buildings. A representative of the science faculty and the maintenance crew were waiting for Fraser and Ray, when they arrived. 

"I really think it's unlikely that our facility is being used for this..this.." The scientist unlocked the door to the furnace room. "I'm sure we would have seen some evidence of it." 

"Look, the entire forensic team of the Chicago P.D. couldn't find any evidence at the crime scenes. You think you're better trained than they are?" 

He knew Fraser would probably give him a lecture when they left. But the time for being polite had long passed. So Ray could be forgiven for doing a double take when he heard Fraser's voice come from behind him, stern and very un-Fraser-like. 

"If you two wouldn't mind, I think you could be of more help to us if you stayed outside and waited ." The men started to protest. "We will tell you of anything we find. Now please..." He indicated the door. Both of them left, obviously not pleased with the turn of events. 

Ray stood with his hands on his hips and a wide grin on his face. 

"Why Fraser, you almost sounded like a true born, native of Chicago." He slapped him on the back. "I'm proud of you. But remember, I play the bad cop, you play the good cop. We can't both be playing bad cop." 

"Understood, Ray. Now shall we get started? I imagine that there is a bin under the furnace to catch ashes for disposal." 

Fraser pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and snapped them on. 

"I don't believe you! Rubber gloves? You carry around rubber gloves? What for? I mean what could you possibly need rubber gloves for?" 

"Obviously for a situation such as this, Ray. Now could you help me with the bin. It's heavy." 

"You think we really need to sift through that? I mean...if you're right...we'd be...you know...It just makes me feel really weird." 

"Ray, there is an old Inuit saying "A man must do everything properly. Which means..." 

"I know, I know...okay...got another pair of gloves?" 

Handing Ray a pair of gloves they began to go through the ashes. By the time forensics arrived they knew they were right. Lester Burke had been using the university facilities to literally get away with murder. Now that they knew where he committed his crimes, it might take them that one step closer to catching him. 

Ray brushed the soot from his coat. "So Burke's been here all along. I know I should be excited about this, I mean it's the first real break we've had. But when you think about it. Where does it get us? He's probably working here with an assumed name and you know what workshop grapevines are like. He's gonna know we've found this place and be outta here long before we get a chance to find him." 

"True, Ray. But maybe we've made it just a little harder for him now. Where else is he going to find a situation like this?" Fraser tossed his gloves into a nearby can. "He's driven by the same schedule we are. He's not going to have it as easy ." 

Vecchio followed him from the basement room. He just wished he shared some of his friend's conviction. He didn't need a calendar to tell him that their time was running out. Tomorrow was September 24th. Burke's last day to strike. 

**** The six o'clock alarm woke Fraser from a restless sleep. He had tried to sound positive for Ray's benefit, but he didn't really believe that Burke wouldn't keep to his agenda. The fact that the killer was being so reckless and bold pointed to the fact that he wouldn't stop. Fraser had chased a faceless Burke in his dreams, each time arriving minutes too late. 

The pounding at his door and Mr. Mustafi's frantic calls of "Constable" made his heart sink through the floor. It could only be Ray, with bad news. 

"Benny? They just found a body over at the Institute for the Blind. One of the cleaning staff didn't show up for work. Her boss got nervous and called us right away. She fits the profile, young...dark haired. This time he didn't bother to hide the body. But it's Burke for sure. ....hold it, another call coming in." 

Fraser's stomach tightened into knots as he waited. Ray came back on the line, his voice taut with emotion. "This may be it, Benny. A squad car just found an abandoned van. University maintenance van. From the amount of blood on the scene we can assume it's where it happened." 

"Where'd they find it Ray? Maybe if Dief and I can get there before the scent is completely lost, we might be able to track him." 

"Yeah, good thinking. You're not going to believe this but they found it just outside the grounds at Southwestern. Same general area where he committed the first murder. Lord only knows why he's gone back there. I'm going to be tied up for a bit here, right now I'm ranking officer on the scene. I'll get there as soon as I can. Be careful...and watch your back." 

"Understood" 

"I mean it, Benny. None of that Mountie stuff. You find him..you call it in." 

"We're wasting time, Ray. I'll be careful." 

**** 

Fraser and Diefenbaker found the van. Police were there, setting up the yellow tape barriers around the crime scene. They were reluctant to let the two investigate the van without any clearance or identification. Fraser had to smile to himself as he listened to Ray's angry voice blast from the police radio. He and Diefenbaker didn't meet with any more resistance. 

Within minutes the wolf had Burke's scent. Nose to the ground he seemed to be following a path to the concrete stairwell, where Ray first encountered the killer. Benny began to think that Diefenbaker had picked up an old trail. Why would Burke head back there? Nothing about the man made sense. He had played his death game and had won every round. Four innocent women had died, four lives ended to satisfy a killer's plan. When they finally found Burke, there would be no sympathy, no mercy, Fraser was sure of that. 

A woman's scream brought Fraser back to the present. It had come from in front of him and had reverberated against the stone walls of the underpass. Running and sliding down the slick, leaf covered stairs, he followed Dief through the tunnel. Burke was just ahead of him, he knew it. 

This time.... 

Skidding to a halt at the end of the tunnel he saw the still form of a woman, a blue cord wrapped around her neck. Squinting into the sunlight he saw, what could only be Burke, running across to the small wooded area that cut through the campus grounds. 

"Dief! After him...bring him down." 

He knelt down beside the woman, loosening the rope from her neck, and gently rolled her onto her back. One look told him that he was too late. Her head lay at an awkward angle, her neck broken. Cradling the lifeless body in his arms, he sat there in the cold white light of the Autumn sun. 

**** 

"Benny, they're sweeping the area. They'll find him. It'll be okay." Ray had a death grip on Fraser's arm. 

"It's not okay, Ray. Dief should have come back by now. I want to go and look for him." He ran his hands through his hair. "Dammit Ray, how many times is the guy going to win? I couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes behind him. I heard her scream. How could I have been too late? I was right there!" 

Ray couldn't answer the pain he saw in Fraser's face. "You know you did all you could, Benny. Just leave it alone. " He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Ya know, that's the first time I think I've ever heard you swear." 

He gave Fraser's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get him. Hey, the search team is coming back. They've got Dief, too." 

With an excited bark, the wolf loped towards his master. Reaching Fraser, he leaped up to lick him but yelped as his weight landed on his hind leg. 

The officer that had headed up the search team approached them. "We found him in what looked like, well to be honest , it looked like a bear trap. Someone had dug a deep hole and then covered it with branches. Pretty nasty. Your pup must of tumbled into it chasing after Burke. Looks like he might have twisted his leg when he landed." He turned to address Ray. "No signs of Burke anywhere." 

Carrying Dief, Fraser started towards the Buick. "Officer, I want to thank you for finding Diefenbaker." 

"It was nothing. That wolf of yours was so angry, I'm sure he would have clawed his way out pretty soon." 

Fraser smiled and nodded. "You're probably right. I've never seen him miss a meal yet." 

**** 

The last streams of colour were fading in the night sky. The drive to Richmond would get them there just before nightfall. Both Fraser and Vecchio sat silently, each focussing on private nightmares. Burke had managed to kill 5 women in his latest spree. He had promised to kill only during the month of September and on days with four. Both Benny and Ray knew that this was their final chance. Warnings from the police, articles in the paper and beefed up security had been ineffective in stopping him. His last two murders had taken place within hours of each other and during the early morning. The criminal psychologist suspected that Burke was heading towards a climax. He was becoming more daring and brash. They knew his name, they knew the type of women he preyed on, they knew everything about him except where he was and how to stop him. 

Another warning, and hint of a sixth killing, had reached Ray at the station. He had found a greeting card on his desk, the envelope was white and unsigned. He knew who it was from before he even opened it, the verse inside written in bold block letters. 

With a groan he had handed it to Benny. "Read this, it's from him. He's threatening to kill again. I think he means tonight." His headache had returned and he massaged his throbbing temples. "My God, Benny, three in one day. It's gotta stop." 

Fraser looked up from reading the note. "He's telling us who he's going to kill, Ray. Right here where he says 'you're really too slow, I'm tired of this game... so now is the time, get ready...take Ame. Look at the way he spelled Ame. Better double check with Richmond to make sure they still have the Burkes under surveillance. " 

Ray had grabbed the note from Benny's hand. "Ah man, this headache... I didn't even notice the spelling. Let me get Elaine to call Richmond right away." 

When Elaine Besbriss responded to the detective's summons, she carried a computer printout in her hands. "Ray, there's something here that you should see." She lay the printouts on his desk. In the left-hand column, the names of the victims were listed. Other columns held addresses, places of employment, school information, but Elaine had highlighted information in one of the last columns. 

Ray scanned down the highlighted words. Volunteer - Morris Foundation for the Blind, Previously employed as counsellor - Taft Seeing Eye Institute, Aid - William's institute for the Blind. 

"These women all worked with the blind in some capacity," Ray 

concluded. "He thinks he's killing his sister over and over again. Elaine, get on the phone to Richmond. Tell Charles Burke what we've found. Then call the Richmond police, tell them to double the guard on Amy . C'mon, Fraser, I'll bet my life Lester Burke is on his way to Richmond, and I'm gonna be there to meet him." 

**** 

Forty-five minutes later, they had hit the outskirts of Richmond and could hear the scream of police sirens. 

"We're too late." Fraser's voice could barely be heard over the din. Ray had never heard him sound so defeated. They both had taken a beating on this one. Twenty days spent following up on useless clues and being lead around by Burke. Always getting there too late. Ray tried to think of something encouraging to say but that was Benny's job. He was usually the Pollyanna, always seeing the bright side. It drove Ray crazy and he thought it was Fraser's most annoying trait, but at that moment he would have given anything to hear some encouragement. 

"Vecchio." His cell phone rang, startling both of them. After listening a few moments, he smiled and turned to Benny. "We're not too late. That was Elaine. She said she's been havin' a hell of a time getting through to Richmond P.D. Seems that there is a bomb threat across town. Those were the sirens. They've pulled all details on to that, just like Burke planned. We'll get there on time, Benny. We have to." 

The shrill ring of the cell phone broke the silence again. Ray flipped it up to his ear. "Vecchio" 

Benny saw Ray go stiff and his grip grow tighter on the wheel. The call was over in seconds. "Burke?" 

Ray nodded, "All he said was 'Heads, I win'". 

_________________________________________________________________ 

As they pulled onto Clinton they saw that the house was in total darkness. Seeing the front door was ajar, Ray took that entrance and sent Fraser around the back. 

"Be careful Benny, he hasn't used a gun yet but that doesn't mean he won't." Ray wished for the hundredth time that Fraser would apply for a permit. 

Benny's whispered "Understood, Ray" floated back to him as he watched Fraser head around to the rear of the house. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Ray slowly pushed the front door open and stepped inside. The house was deathly quiet and full of shadows in the dwindling light. A street lamp threw some light into the front hall but not enough to help. 

He called out to Amy and Charles Burke. Nothing but silence met his ears. Edging further into the house he tried to make out shapes. He had already been blind-sided once by Burke and didn't relish the thought of it happening again. Stopping abruptly, and holding his breath, he listened. He thought he had heard a footstep above him. Heading towards where he thought the stairs should be, he stumbled and nearly fell over something lying in the hall. Charles Burke. Ray could just make out his features. Placing two fingers on the old man's throat he felt a strong pulse and sighed his relief. There was nothing he could do for Charles Burke. Finding Amy was his main objective. Standing and turning for the staircase he never saw the crashing blow that sent him to the floor. 

"Ray, Ray, Ray" Burke chuckled. "We've got to stop meeting like this." 

**** 

The back door was locked, as Fraser suspected it would be. He tried the windows on the first floor, but they, too, were bolted shut. The only way in was to break in. Ray and his lock picking expertise was definitely needed. The fact that Ray hadn't made his way to the back of the house to let him in, had Fraser a little more than worried. Wrapping his jacket around his fist, he smashed the glass of the door. He didn't have time for subtlety. The deadbolt was just within reach and in seconds he was standing in the Burke's kitchen. 

A small flashing light caught his eye, an emergency flashlight was plugged into the wall. Checking to make sure it worked, Fraser made his way across the kitchen and into the main area of the house. It was too quiet, he should have heard Ray moving around. Fearing the worst, he carefully moved towards the front hall. His footsteps were silent on the carpeted floors. Playing his light into the front hall he saw two prone figures lying near the bottom of a staircase. 

With a few long strides he reached his friend's side. Fraser's heart thudded in his chest. Memories of finding the woman in the tunnel, too late, were foremost in his mind. Ray Vecchio's face was pale in the harsh glow of the flashlight. A small trickle of blood ran from his temple. The shallow rise and fall of Ray's breathing made Fraser realize that he had been holding his breath. He relaxed just a bit. Ray would be okay. Turning his attention to the other person, he saw that it was Charles Burke. They both needed medical attention and Fraser 

scanned the hallway , hoping to see a phone nearby. It was then that he heard the muffled cry coming from above. Taking one last look to reassure himself that both Ray and Burke would be all right, Fraser started up the stairs. 

Reaching the second floor, he stood at the top of the stairs. He listened again for some sound that would give him a hint as to Amy's whereabouts. The doors to the five rooms all stood open and he could detect no movement from them. He was certain that the sound had come from above him. As Fraser moved to the nearest room to start a more thorough check, he heard from overhead the loud thud of a body falling. Checking the hallway again, he looked for a way to the attic. His light landed on a small door tucked away into an alcove. That had to be it. 

He slowly pulled the door open and saw a long narrow stairway. Turning off the flashlight, he carefully made his way up. He could hear Amy's voice, sobbing and begging her brother to let her go. Lester Burke's response was low and muffled, Fraser strained to hear what he was saying. He was almost to the top of the stairs when everything went silent. He heard a gasp and Burke's laugh. Fraser bounded up the last few steps to stand in the attic. Playing the flashlight across the room, he listened for Burke. 

A small lantern, burning in a corner, offered some light and revealed Amy lying just beneath the attic window, a blue cord wrapped around her neck. She was struggling to free herself from it, her breath coming in laboured gasps. 

Going to her, he kept his voice low and calm. "Amy, stop fighting it. Let me help you". 

Cold fingers gripped his wrist. "Who..who..?" 

Before he could answer, Burke's voice came from behind him. "Why little sister, that's Constable Benton Fraser " 

Fraser caught the glint of steel as Burke's arm arced above him. Throwing himself to one side, dragging Amy along with him, he managed to barely miss the blade. He heard it rip through the flannel of his jacket. Burke snarled in fury and moved in for a second attack. Kicking out hard, Fraser landed a solid blow to the killer's leg, sending him to the floor. 

"C'mon Amy, we have to move" He half carried, half dragged the frightened woman to the stairs. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder he saw that Burke had moved to hide in the deeper shadows of the attic. "Do you think you can make it downstairs? Your father and Detective Vecchio are lying at the bottom of the stairs in the front hall" He saw her start. "It's alright, they're unconscious but they need help." He helped her down the first step, bracing himself for Burke's next attack. "Amy? Can you do it?" 

"I can make it" Her voice was small but firm. She held his sleeve in a white knuckled grip. "You're coming, too?" 

"I'm going to make sure your brother gives you enough time to get down safely. Don't worry, I'll be behind you. Now hurry." 

Fraser waited at the top of the stairs, watching Amy's tentative first few steps. With each step she seemed to gain some confidence. Satisfied that she would be able to make the trip without his help, he turned his attention to Burke. 

"Lester? It's over. The police will be here very soon. Just throw out your knife and we can end it here." 

"You haven't saved her, you know." Burke's voice came out of the darkness. "You've only postponed it. You're right, it will end here. She's gonna die tonight, just like she should have years ago". 

That's it, just keep talking Burke. Let me know where you are. Fraser knew that he couldn't let Burke get by him. "No one is going to die tonight, Lester" He edged slowly towards Burke. "You're going to turn yourself in and get the help you need" He was just a few feet from Burke's hiding spot. Another few inches and he would be able to rush him. 

"Wrong Constable. Dead wrong" Charging from behind the stacked boxes, Burke overturned the lantern and flung himself at Fraser. 

The suddeness of the attack almost caught Fraser off guard. Crouching into a defensive position, he met Burke's assault and deftly threw him over his shoulder. The killer rolled as he landed and stood ready for Fraser's next move, his knife poised. Fraser stood quietly, willing to let Burke commit himself. His patience was rewarded as Burke dove at him again. He reached for his adversary's wrist, intent on disarming him. But as Burke came near he shifted his weight and sent his shoulder crashing into the Mountie. The impact knocked the wind from Fraser as he landed with Burke on top of him. 

"C'mon Constable, I didn't think killing you was going to be this easy" Burke's hot breath was inches from his ear. 

Fraser heaved with all his might and sent Burke across the floor. As he fell, the knife went spinning from his hand, to land near the window. Both men lunged for it. Burke's hand closed around the 

hilt and with lightening speed he drove the blade into Fraser's side. Ignoring the white hot fire that burned in his abdomen, Fraser swung his fist catching Burke in the temple, dazing him. Clutching his side, he staggered away from Burke, to lean heavily against a far wall. His blood oozed through his fingers and he knew he wouldn't be able to continue at that pace. Across the room, Lester Burke was getting to his feet, a leering grin on his face. 

"You're dead, Mountie". 

"Hold it, Burke" Ray's voice came from the stairs. "Just drop the knife" 

"Not yet, Vecchio" He smiled, not taking his eyes off Fraser. "First I'm gonna gut your friend and then you" He took a step towards the Mountie. 

The bullet sailed through Burke's skull, dropping him like a stone. 

"Benny? You okay?" He moved toward his friend, his gun and attention still trained on the killer. "Benny?" It was then that he saw Fraser slowly sinking to the floor. Holstering his gun, he helped his partner to a sitting position. "Ah man, why didn't ya say you were hit?" 

"S'okay, Ray" His eyes had begun to glaze over from the pain. "We got him." 

"Yeah, we got him. You just hang on, Benny. Helps coming" 

As the sound of sirens grew louder, Vecchio gave Burke one last glance. "Tails, you lose. I hope you rot in Hell." 

Finis 


End file.
